Read Online Her Majesty's Wizard #1 by Christopher Stasheff - Free Book Online Page A

suit thy taste than awaiting certain doom within this chamber. Aye, 'tis so! Yet didst thou think that dragons are more partial to such cramped and noisome quarters than are men?"
       "Oh." Matt bit his cheek in consternation. "Sorry. I was in a little bit of a rush, wasn't I?"
       "Aye, and thou wast near to making waste-of thee."
       "I see your point." Matt eyed the dragon's cocked and loaded snout. "Well, suppose I get you out of here first? Any particular place you'd like to be?"
       "Anywhere, so it be wide and free and open."
       "The plains, then." Matt rolled up his sleeves. "How about next to a stream?"
       "Stream, flood, or bog, I care not one whit! Only put me there!"
       Matt nodded and began,
       "I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine. And there you shall rest your enamell'd skin. Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in."
       Air imploded with a padded thud, and the cell was empty, except for Matt and the giant candle, flame streaming in the wind. He drew a long, shaky breath; he'd felt forces gathering around him again and was more certain than ever that they had been molding themselves to his words, somehow.
       Idly, he wondered why there should be weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in, right after the line about enameled skin. It hadn't made that much more sense in the original, really-but Shakespeare had put it in, so who was he to turn it down?
       Back to the matter of the moment-how had that prisoner verse gone again?
       "There sits a prisoner in a cell of stone Whose eyes should weep, for she's alone."
       He felt it beginning again-a gathering of forces, like static electricity around a lightning rod, before the faint spark flew.
       "Yet ill-becoming royalty are tears; And she's a queen, though slight of years."
       The feeling was much stronger now, with something slightly ominous about it. He wondered, fleetingly, what would happen if he built up a field as strong as this, then couldn't think of an imperative, a directing phrase, a route for the magic field's discharge.
       Come to think of it, what was he going to use for an imperative to this verse? Umm.
       "Away, away, through walls I'll fly to her, And there about our fates we shall confer!"
       A silent, invisible explosion blasted him; the floor seemed to slide sideways beneath his feet, and a huge hand squeezed him, then let him go. He looked up, panting, amazed to find himself dripping with sweat, and saw the princess.
    ----
    CHAPTER 4
       She was tall, about five feet ten, with long blond hair flowing down over her shoulders, curling out in smooth, full billows over high, firm breasts, then falling almost to her waist. She had an oval face, with clear, pale skin, arched, delicate eyebrows over large, long-lashed blue eyes, a straight nose with a hint of up-tilt, full and very red lips, and high cheekbones. She was by far the most beautiful woman Matt had ever seen.
       And that was without a bath-or a decent dress, for that matter. She was wearing muddy maroon rags that once might have been a long, tight-sleeved kirtle under a tight-laced, scoop-necked bliaut with wide, hanging sleeves.
       At the moment, she was staring at him as if she were wondering whether he were an angel or a demon. Matt decided he'd better update her.
       "Hi." He tried for a nonchalant grin. "I'm the new wizard in town. You must be the princess."
       Her eyes caught fire, and she came up out of the low, hourglass-shaped chair like a lioness grabbing for a careless gazelle. "Wizard? You are truly such? You do not mock me, sir?"
       "Uh-not the world's greatest wizard, mind you-but I do seem to be able to work a few tricks."
       "Aye, most truly, if you can bring yourself into this cell! Why came you here?"
       "Well, uh, I heard there was a lady around who could